Chosen (Slayer 2)

“But it’s thirty miles!”

Thirty miles I’d have to spend with the weight of unanswered and unasked questions. I’d rather run. I sprint out of the building and into the winter afternoon, burning so hot I wonder that nothing catches fire in my wake.

ARTEMIS

HONORA IS LYING ON THE edge of the bed, head hanging over, her long dark hair draping down like shiny curtains, obscuring the light of her face. She’s paging idly through a selection of brochures spread out on the floor.

“… kind of a creep, but aren’t they all? He pays well. We could make enough in a couple months for tuition for at least a year. Ooh, this is a proper campus—just look at that ivy. I know it’s not practical, but I always kind of wanted to go into communications. PR. Isn’t that daft?” She turns her head to look at Artemis, making a face to hide her vulnerability.

Artemis smiles so Honora knows she’s not teasing. “I don’t think that’s daft. You’d kick ass at a PR firm. And if things didn’t go your way, you’d also kick ass, just literally.”

Honora laughs and goes back to the brochures. The plan is to do some demon-hunting jobs—Honora still has plenty of connections, even though she doesn’t work with Sean anymore—and earn enough to put themselves through college. Artemis isn’t old enough, technically, but Honora also knows someone who can fake documents to give Artemis all the A levels and identity requirements she needs to apply. Artemis didn’t exactly take time to grab her birth certificate before running out on the castle, the Watchers, her mother, her sister, and everything she’d ever known and worked toward.

“Hey, Moon, what’s wrong?”

Artemis forces a smile. She stands, stretching. “Just tired.” The flat they’re crashing in belonged to a vampire, and the décor is like someone spent way too much time studying vampire films of the eighties. The walls are painted black and plastered with neon posters. The headboard is black leather, and Artemis tries very hard not to think about what might have gone down in this room. They vacuumed the carpet very thoroughly after dusting the vampire, but she still insisted on new bedding before she’d sleep here. And even after that, she doesn’t sleep well. She constantly wakes in a panic, heart racing with the knowledge that she’s supposed to be doing something.

She can never figure out what, though.

Honora’s excited about their plans, and Artemis wants to be. But trying to imagine a life where she goes to college and majors in, what, accounting? And then gets a job in an office and wears low heels and goes to work every day like a normal person? She’s not a normal person, she’s never been a normal person, she doesn’t want to be a normal person. The whole thing would feel too absurd, knowing the evil that’s out there, lurking.

Artemis, an accountant, while Nina is a Slayer.

Her phone rings with the castle cell number and she wonders if her bitterness has summoned her twin. They haven’t spoken. Artemis wasn’t going to be the first to call. Not this time. Let Nina try to fix what was broken for once. Or it might be their mother. Taking a deep breath, annoyed for how her hopes flutter fragile and pathetic in her heart, Artemis answers. “Yeah?”

“Artemis?”

It takes her a few moments to place the voice. “Imogen?” Not who she had expected. She’s winded with disappointment. She wants her mother to call, to demand Artemis come back so she can refuse. She wants Nina to call and talk about how bad things are, how much they need her. She doesn’t know what she’d say in that case. But Imogen?

“Hey,” Imogen says. “Thank God. I was worried you’d change your number. Are you in contact with Sean?”

“No.” Artemis shrugs at Honora’s curious look, then mouths Imogen. Honora sits up and leans close. “We haven’t talked to Sean since my sister destroyed his whole setup. Wait. Is the castle in trouble? Did he attack to get Doug back?” Artemis’s pulse speeds up. She knew it. She knew they were making the wrong choice, that they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves. Honora gestures and Artemis puts the phone on speaker.

“What? No. This is about something else. Bigger. I can’t take it to Nina—she won’t be able to handle it. And we both know she won’t play nice with Honora, which is absurd. You and Honora are the best we ever had, even if the decrepit old guard were too far up their asses to see it. So this call is secret, okay?”

Ar

temis and Honora share a look. They’ve never heard Imogen talk this way. Artemis is intrigued in spite of herself. “I’m not in contact with anyone from the castle anyway.”

“Good. I’ve done some research and there’s a major new player surfacing. We’re talking hellgod level. Maybe. I can’t be certain. But I think Sean is connected. You remember his tea?”

They have a supply of some of his more potent drugs, but it’s dwindling. Artemis counts it every day, watching as her only access to the type of power she needs disappears. It fills her with as much terror as anticipating a life as an accountant. She wants the strength to help, to protect Honora, to fight evil, to be more than herself. And without Sean’s drugs, she’s back to the Artemis who wasn’t good enough. “Yeah, I remember his tea.”

“There was a symbol on it. You know the one?”

Artemis does. She glances over at the nightstand where one of his branded packages sits. Now that she thinks about it, she’s seen it before. Somewhere. Where?

Imogen keeps talking. “I thought it was just his brand, but it’s been bugging me. I think it’s connected to something bigger. And I …” She pauses, and the phone is muffled as her tone changes and she answers someone in chipper tones. “Sorry. Gotta go. Nice talking to you, Liesa. I’m definitely interested in keeping chickens. I’ll be in touch with more questions.” The line goes dead.

Artemis holds the phone, staring down at it as she tries to process the conversation. Imogen was always on the sidelines. But they had been united by being shuffled by the Watchers to the worst jobs in the castle, Imogen tainted by her mother’s choices and Artemis apparently deemed simply not good enough.

She was better than everyone in that whole damn castle. Even if the Watchers were still at full force, she’d be better than all of them.

The library! She’d seen the symbol in the library, when she had to label and catalog every single book instead of studying them like Rhys, all because she’d failed a single test.

Screw stability. Screw accounting. Artemis is a Watcher, the only real one left, and if there’s a new creeping menace out there, she’ll figure it out and deal with it herself. “Call Sean.” She tosses the phone to a surprised Honora. “Tell him we want to come work for him.”

Honora twists her lips. “You sure? I was on my way out before the whole remora fiasco anyway. Not wild about the people he’s working with now. Dodgy religious zealots.”